BANE: A Devils' Due MC Romance Novel (6 page)

The door opened and he went straight in without even knocking.  He never knocked.  He brought with him a tray with a plate that contained what looked like mashed potato and barbecued ribs, as well as a glass of water.

“Eat,” he said once again.  It was the only word he spoke whenever he came to the room, thrice every day though he has only visited me twice today.

He was a short, stout man, untypical for his ilk.  He was just beginning to grow his hair and his beard.  He hasn’t been here long, that much was obvious.  The patch on his kutte confirmed my suspicion. 
Prospect
, it read, the only word sewn on his back.

He grabbed the tray filled with the half-eaten lunch he delivered earlier today.  Then he went out without even looking at me.

Often, I could hear them, all of them, especially when they conversed with loud voices.  I doubt they even realized that. For the past three days, I was the topic of most of their discussions, and the way they talked about me only made my apprehensions worse. 
Just kill her and get this over wit
h, someone said last night. 
Why would we even trust a rat’s daughter?  She knows too much.  What’s stopping her from squealing like her old man?

They were painful words to hear, not because of what they wanted to do to me, but because of how they regarded my father.  My dad served them well.  He devoted his entire life to their club.  But he was caught in a bind, deprived of a choice.  He risked everything just to save me, and that cost him his life.

Just be strong Lana
, he told me the night before he died. 
You know how it goes.  You know what is supposed to happen next.  Just be strong and you’ll be okay.

Deep inside, I knew I could never forgive them for what they did.  But I also knew that I couldn’t hate them completely.  My father was right.  I was born in the club.  Whether his so-called
brothers
knew it or not, I was a part of it.  My dad told me everything, each and every night.  He didn’t keep any secrets from me.  He wanted me to learn all that was to learn about their
brotherhood
.  I knew all their codes and their sins, all the things they do, all the things they have done, and all the things they’d rather keep buried.  It was my father’s dream that, one day, I’d become someone famous... and I’d write a book about the Devils’ Due Motorcycle Club, one that would make the rest of the world understand the reasons behind the chaos they chose to live.

As fate would put it, he didn’t live long enough to witness that dream fulfilled.  And neither was I good enough to make it come true, anyway.

Much as how mean the men’s words were, it was what the women said that really hurt.  They didn’t want me dead.  They wanted me destroyed.  They wanted me ruined.  I didn’t know if that’s what they really felt or if they were just putting up a brave facade to impress the patches and win their attention.

Nevertheless, their threatening remarks made me too afraid to go out of this room.

There was a bathroom at the end of the hallway just outside the door.  But its stench was just too foul, it was unbearable.  I haven’t taken a shower since I got here.  I only went there if I absolutely had to go. 

I missed our home at Willowville.  Small but quaint, my father made sure that everything there would be comfortable for me.  He built the porch by himself when I was just five. 
We’d wait for your mom here every evening
, I remembered him saying once.  My mother died that year, and we spent much of our nights in the living room whenever he was home, watching TV and drowning ourselves with bottles of soda until it was time for me to go to bed.  Throughout the years, termites infested the porch and leaves dropped and wilted on its floor.  I don’t recall an instance when we cleaned it.

It was just me and my dad, basically, who lived in that house for as long as I could remember.  He’d hire some babysitter - teens from nearby homes - to watch over me whenever he had those long runs, but he made it a point to come home each and every night no matter how late it was.

He loved me so much.  I knew that.

And now he’s gone.

I swallowed some air and tried to ward off the tears that desperately wanted to drop from my eyes. 
Be strong Lana
, his words echoed in my head again. 
Just be strong and everything will be alright.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.

An
actual
knock.

It was
him.

He entered the room and gave me a miserly stare.  His long dark hair covered half of his face.  His height and his strapping build made his presence very imposing, but somehow... somehow I didn’t feel threatened.  I actually felt...
relieved
... that he was there.

“‘Yer not a prisoner here, y’know,” he reminded me, as he did every single day since he brought me here.

I rested my chin over my knees and nodded.

“Listen, kid, I ain’t gonna force ‘ya to go out there and mingle,” he continued.  “I have to be honest with ‘ya... ye’ll be like fresh meat to the pack of wolves waiting to gobble you up.”

I closed my eyes and tried my best not to visualize what he just said.

“But ‘ya can’t stay in this damn room forever,” he went on.  “Fuck!  When was the last time ‘ya had a bath?”  He sniffed the air around him.  “‘Ya smell worse than I do, and I know I smell like vomit and filth.”

It wasn’t exactly true.  He didn’t smell good.  But neither did he smell bad.  His fragrance was that of cheap cologne mixed with the odor of tobacco and beer.  It wasn’t a savory combination, but it wasn’t repulsive at all.  In a way, his smell reminded me of my dad.

“I can lecture ‘ya about hygiene, but I’m not the preacher-type,” he proceeded to say.

I just shrugged.

“So, guess what?” he asked.  “I’ve come to a decision.”

My eyes widened with curiosity and shock.  What kind of decision was he talking about?

“Tomorrow,” he began to say, “‘ye’r goin’ to school!”

Oh no... please no...

I shook my head vigorously.

“Ah, don’t give me that shit!” he yelled.  “‘Ye’r goin’ to school whether ‘ya like it or not.  I’d grab ‘yer hair and drag ‘ya there m’self if I have to.  ‘Ye’r going to school and that’s that!”

He gave me a vile scowl that made me cringe.  I retreated further towards the headboard of his bed.  He noticed how terrified I became.  He took a few steps closer as his demeanor changed.

“‘Yer old man wants ‘ya to finish high school,” he said, with exasperation but also with a tinge of sympathy.  “Hey, if it was up to me, ‘ya can skip that crap and do whatever you want to do with ‘yer life starting right now.  But Trevor and I, we made a promise.  ‘Ya do understand, don’t ‘ya?”

I buried my face on my arms.  I didn’t want him to see me.  I refused to answer his question... not with words, not with expressions.

“Come on, kid, cut me some slack, will ‘ya?” he pleaded without surrendering his manly tone.  “The brothers outside aren’t really warm on ‘ya bein’ here.  And the girls?  They’re so eager to scratch ‘yer pretty face the moment they see ‘ya.  Attending school will keep ‘ya out of the clubhouse for a good number of hours each day.  ‘Ye’d be free from worrying about the rumpus ye’ve caused here, and ye’d be safe from people who hate ‘ya because they hate ‘yer pops.”

Difficult as it was for me to admit, he had a point.

I didn’t have to rot in this dirty, smelly, suffocating room.  I could go out, go to school and run away if I wanted to.  No one here cared about me.  They wouldn’t try to find me.  They’d be happy that I was gone.

But... where would I go?

My dad didn’t have any siblings... I have no aunt or uncles or cousins who would take me in.  Papa never talked about his family... maybe because he never had one... maybe because he grew up hopping from one foster home to another... maybe because they were all dead for some reason or another... I really wouldn’t know.

All I did know was that I had nowhere else to go to... and despite what he did to his club and what this club did to him, he wanted me to stay here until I finished school.

“So, ‘ye will tidy ‘yerself up tomorrow, get ‘yer books or ‘yer notebooks or ‘yer pencils or whatever ready, and ‘ye will go do some school shit.  I don’t care if ye’ll just be there for the roll call and ye’d ditch ‘yer classes once ‘yer darn name is called... but ‘ye will go to school.  Is that clear?”

I raised up my head to look at him... to determine how serious he was.  His eyes, fiery and intense, told me that he was very serious.  He didn’t seem like he’d accept any other answer.  I gulped.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

His eyes broadened as his lips curled into a weirdly distorted shape.  He stared at me for what felt like a minute.

“Okay then,” he finally said.  He turned around and walked towards the exit.  He gave me another look - filled with bewilderment and suspicion - before he closed the door.

For some strange reason, that made me smile.

He was a tough guy, in appearance and in deed.  Yet, he acted like he was completely startled when I agreed to his demand.

And then it struck me.

Okay
, I said.

It was actually the first word I uttered since my father died.

Getting out of the clubhouse was easier than I thought.

For the past three days, I’ve observed that the lobby was silent from four in the morning until around nine when people started to arrive.  So I made sure that everything I needed was ready by that time.  I set my phone’s alarm and it woke me up at 4:45.  I went straight to the bathroom, braced myself for the foul smell and the grimy sight, and took a quick shower.  I dressed up, grabbed my things and began to sneak out of the building.

Bane was sleeping... snoring loudly... as I passed by the couch.  I looked at him.  He wasn’t a graceful sleeper.  His mouth was wide open, and some drool was trickling from his mouth.  There was something about the way he snoozed, though, that was somewhat fetching.  Maybe it was the naturalness of it all.  Or his
I-don’t-give-a-damn
attitude that extended to his moments of slumber.  Or his toughness that showed even during his most unguarded moment.